a piece of string

We have known a young mother named Dina for as long as we have lived in Mozambique.  She was long ago converted to the faith but had life changes that were difficult and some growing up to do.  Debbie and I have been teaching her again for the last few months--and following some soul searching, she was baptized on Saturday.  Among the most prepared investigators that we have seen.  The service was wonderful and inspiring to all that attended.  We had other investigators attending who commented that they wanted their baptism to be just like it.



 

After the baptism, we immediately climbed in the car and headed for Marromeu, for continuing travel to Beira, where we were promised a computer, printer, desk and file cabinets to set up the branch office.  Before, we left, I had a very interesting impression that I must bring along a meter-long piece of thin nylon cord that was sitting in our room.  The road to Marromeu as I have often commented here, is a very rough one where the car seems to shake itself apart.  We were in the middle of nowhere when a horrible sound brought me screeching to a halt.  Upon examination, this is what we saw.


The feeder tube to the gas tank (the one generally affixed to the side of the car and covered by a cap and hinged little door) had been shaken loose (the bolts had torn out of the car body) and become wedged between the tire and the running board.  We were without tools and were quite stumped for a time--when suddenly, I remembered a yard-long piece of string I had brought.  With that, and with only a smidgen in excess length, I managed to tie the tube in place and continue our journey.

 

We dined that evening in Marromeus's only restaurant with the Elders Heaton and Francisco there.  They shared with us the provenance of one of their dinners that week.  The took a stick, heavy string and a hook with a piece of meat and dropped the bait into a drain pipe.  Here was their catch--which they ate.  Debbie was so disappointed that we had not arrived in time to share.

 



This is a monitor lizard. They get much bigger, but this one seemed to be plenty big for them.

We preached and counseled and interviewed and tried to do good and rushed out the next day in a deluge of rain--in hopes of completing the 8 hour trip to Beira before nightfall.  The road was awash in water and deep dips quickly became full.  We did the dirt road part of the trip in 4 wheel drive and a couple of times saw our hood become submerged as we pressed through the flood.  We made it to pavement eventually, though that particular road is so full of deep potholes as to make it slower going than the other.  En route, our alternator died necessitating compression starts aided by compassionate Mozambicans along the way.  As we approached Beira, we heard something of an explosion behind us and found the following.

Luckily we had a jack and a spare and a little mozambican foot trafficon the  road that helped us push the car to start it again.

The stars aligned for our benefit and we were able to find an opening at the Nissan dealer in Beira the next day to get all our problems fixed while we spent at least part of the day with the Halls, a couple from Idaho Falls, at the Rio Savane in the water and sun.

Our branch office supplies were all awaiting us as promised and we stuffed them in the truck--trying to pad them as best we could for the ordeal of the return trip.

We stopped to buy three bags of charcoal (carvao) on the return trip--the price on the road being just half of what it is in the city.  (three dollars instead of six each--but for many, that is a huge difference)

This was another group of young vendors along our return road.  These small animals they killed with spears they said, and they call them Gazelles, though that is a generic term that is thrown around pretty freely.  Debbie was not in a meat-eating mood at this particular time for some reason.